Vive la Révolution!
by Melody Syper Carston
Summary: "I want the Nation of France to be beheaded in front of his people. Today marks the beginning of the new Republic of France and I can't have any old habits getting in the way of my work," The man smirked over at his country, whom had paled drastically. Minor character death and implied Major Character Death. No pairing.


**Vive la Révolution  
****By: Melody Syper Carston**

_Oneshot: Vive la République fran__ҫ__ais_

He was usually so charming with his always soft, shoulder-length blonde hair tied back in a bright red or a royal blue ribbon—_Paris's colors_, he had once explained as he absentmindedly fingered the boldly colored bow_. _His skin was usually so immaculate with just a bit of stubble on his chin. His voice was always full of life and full of confidence His style always top of the line and flashy…

There was nothing charming about France's appearance now. His hair was greasy and stringy and clung to the side of his face due to the layer of sweat and blood caking his cheeks. The ribbon could no longer hold his hair back for he had chopped it all off just above his chin in annoyance—and would probably cut it again in hopes of evening out the jagged, unevenness of it from where his hands had been shaking so badly as he yanked a knife through it. His skin was pallid and bruised a sick yellowish color, clinging to his bones like a life line. His voice was dead and hoarse from hours of tormented screaming in the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning. His clothes were tattered and caked in mud and blood and sweat and alcohol. France reeked of devastation, of rebellion… of revolution.

His body ached terribly. War was tearing him apart. And it only seemed to be getting worse as time rolled by. The screams of his people echoed again and again in his mind, making him want to claw his eyes out and drain his head in order to relieve the pressure built up behind them.

_Vive la revolution!_

_ "Is there a reason I caught my princess just inside your borders and headed towards my country? What have you done to her to make her flee the way she had attempted?" Austria had demanded, standing next to the carriage that had held the fleeing royal family. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a disgusted look on his face aimed at the French Nation only a few feet away._

_ "She is not _your_ princess anymore. She is my queen. And she was fleeing because I told them to. My Third Estate has been revolting and they've set out to kill the royal family in order to get rid of the monarchy." Francis's voice was no more than a whisper as he snatched the family away from the Austrian._

_ "And why would that want to do that? Your country has been ruled by the monarchy for centuries," In all honesty, Francis thought the Austrian sounded suspicious as if he didn't believe a word the French man was spouting off. _

_ "Because _humans_ cannot be _satisfied_. I'm up to my neck in debt because I allied myself with America when he declared war against England. And thanks to all of that, we had to raise taxes and so on and so forth. They're sick of not having a say in what happens in the government, they're tired of being treated unfairly. They want a change; and to do that, one must first rid themselves of what is _controlling_ them," He answered bitterly, hands tightening on his Queen's arm so much so that the young woman began to grimace. Francis paid no attention to what he was doing to her arm, opting to glare at the Austrian._

_ "And what are _you_ going to do with them now that you've come into possession of the family? You act as if you are going to turn them in, but you talk as though you want nothing to do with the revolution at all. You aren't implying that you actually are going to turn them in to your people, are you?" Austria was horrified at the thought. That was _his princess_! And Francis was going to _turn her in _ to the people that wanted to _kill her and her family_? _

_ Francis's eyes burned with anger. "I. Have. No. Choice. Roderich. If I don't turn them in and my people find out, they'll know that—" He stepped closer to the Austrian in order to hiss the next part, for fear of any eavesdroppers—"That I still support the monarchy. And they'll have my head—literally—for treason! You're right, Roderich. I _don't _want to turn them in. In fact, it makes me sick to think about it. But it's unavoidable."_

_ "How dare you, you _bastard_." _

_ Francis could hear his people approaching, hear the screams and the shouts of their revolution. "I have to go. But knowing my people, they will attempt to bring you into this war because of _their_ attempted escape. _Protectyourkingdom_, Austria. Gather your troops and allies in preparation. They'll destroy you like they have me if you don't!"_

_ Austria's eyes narrowed. "Why would you tell me all of this, _France_? We've never been on good terms, so why the hell start now?"_

_ "Because I want this about as much as my king wants to be _beheaded_." Francis snapped back. "Roderich, I'm at the mercy of _myown_ people. I'm _dying; _I can feel my country shattering. I would rather be put out of my misery than be forced to suffer through the thousands of people revolting against each other, right now. I don't have any more _time_ to explain this, Roderich! Just go!"_

_ Austria did just that. He left. With one finally snarl of disgust, the Aristocratic nation pivoted on his heels and disappeared into the night, heading back towards his borders where his own carriage was awaiting him._

_ Francis pivoted on his own heel, whipping around to face his people, "Are these the people that you want?" His voice, though hoarse, was so easily able to carry across the huge field that was full of blood thirst _citizens_. He thrust the king and queens arms high into the air for the others to see._

_ The crowd yelled out shouts of hatred towards the quivering family. "Lock them away! Kill them! Off with their heads! Destroy the monarchy! _Vivelarévolution_!"_

_ Without a single glance at the family that was sending the French Nation pleading looks, France murmured two words that sent the crowd into chaos, "Take them."_

_Vive la revolution!_

"Sir…"

Francis snapped out of his thoughts and hesitantly looked up at the man—_boy_… he couldn't _possibly_ be of age yet—standing in the doorway. He was wearing an official uniform but seemed to be half turned as if ready to flee the moment Francis became cross with him. The French nation decided that he had probably been sent by some higher up, for they were probably too busy with their own meetings and plans. Francis wanted nothing to do with them. They were the ones that had ripped him apart. They were the ones that were killing him slowly.

"_Quoi_? _Dis_-_moi_," Francis added when the young boy didn't answer at first.

"They've decided on what they're to do with Ki—_citizen Louis XVI."_

Francis could feel his chest tighten and his hands shake around the glass of water in his hands. He swallowed hard and nodded, "Go on. What have they decided?"

"He is to be beheaded in six days. They would like their Nation to attend—as a reminder that we're no longer under the rule of monarchy. That we are a republic."

Francis closed his eyes a breathed deep. He knew what it felt like for one of his _citizens_ to be beheaded. But what about his _king_? What would happen to Francis once his king—his country's main platform—was beheaded? Would he finally die? France was no _republic_. Did that mean that he too would fall when his monarchy would fall?

"I understand."

_Vive la revolution!_

Francis watched as his people shoved his king up to the platform that the beloved National Razor stood upon. Proudly she stood, razor cleaned and sharpened just for their king. Around him, his citizens chanted, "_Vive_ _la Rébublique fan__ҫ__ais!_" again and again. Francis himself felt as though he was going to be sick.

His king stood tall, though, obviously he had accepted his fate by now and he was prepared to die. As he stood at the top of the platform, facing what used to be his people, he uttered his last speech, "People of Paris… People of France. Today I die an innocent man. I forgive my enemies. I trust that my death will be for the happiness of my people, but I grieve for France and I fear that he may suffer the anger of the Lord."

_Great thanks, Louis. You really know how to brighten the mood of your Nation._ Francis thought sarcastically as he crossed his hands over his chest in hopes of keeping his thundering heart locked in his chest instead of flying out and spattering on the ground like it wanted to.

The beheading was absolute chaos. The death of the formal king sparked another fire of hope into France's people. _They were free! The republic was to stay! _The crowd went absolutely _wild_ with this revelation.

Francis felt as though his neck was on fire, and he was quick to flee from the scene in order to empty the contents of his stomach—mainly bile thanks to the shortage of food. His king was dead. He was nothing now… not yet a republic, no longer a monarchy. What was he now?

"I am Francis Bonnefoy. I am _France_, and I will _not_ be clay in my own people's hands." He growled to himself as he wiped his mouth and straightened up.

_Vive la République fran__ҫ__ais!_

He thought the revolution would be over once the king had been disposed of. And the hopeful thought of, _It's over and they'll be satisfied for now! _Had dared to cross his mind…

_But oh how the mighty will fall._

He was a wreck. After the death of the king, the leaders of this _godforsaken_ revolution had taken over. And had thrown the country for a loop by rewriting everything. It had felt like such a long and tedious battle that he couldn't remember which day was which anymore! And his people…! Each day Francis was forced to suffer through beheadings, so many that he had lost count in the very first week—month, ten days, what was he to call the calendar his people had set up?

Near the end of this Reign of Terror, all hell broke loose. Hunger for more power lead the leaders to turn on one another, accusing the others of treason. And each leader was put on trial and executed. The groups that had been controlling the tired nation for so long fell and disappeared back into the crowd. But the National Convention still carried on with it's own duties. Briefly, the group banded together in order to write a whole new constitution that brought the country under the rule of the middle class. And for four years this continued.

And then a young man named Napoleon stepped up and seized control of the weakened country while all of this chaos was going on. He stood tall, a natural born leader. And Francis saw a spark of new life in the man's eyes. The first words he uttered were not what was expected:

"I want the Nation of France to be beheaded in front of his people. Today marks the beginning of the new Republic of France and I can't have any old habits getting in the way of my work," The man smirked over at his country, whom had paled drastically.

_Beheaded? Him?_

"Yes, sir."

And Francis was immediately seized by the arms.

_Vive la Fran__ҫ__ais!_

**A/N: A running headcannon thanks to my World History class (we're currently studying the French Revolution and are about to start on Napoleon) is that Francis was beheaded during the revolution to mark the end of the monarchy, the end of the Reign of Terror, the end of all of that, and the begging of the Republic of France. I'm sorry that the ending seems kind of abrupt, but I couldn't exactly figure out how to word the ending as I wanted it and kind of just let it trail off a bit lamely. And I hate that…**

**But whatever. What's done is done.**

**Oh! A note about the calendar comment somewhere near the end: During the Reign of Terror, Robespierre and his followers came together and snatched away the power from the Catholic Church and in order to make the country religiously neutral, they created a three-week-ten-day calendar rather than a four-week-seven-day calendar. This was to make sure no one knew what day Sunday was. **

**Yea… Well… Reviews and stuff are cool.**

**~Melody Syper Carston**


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